


Strap

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, Dominance, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:20:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim follows orders and forgets suggestions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiasobi_writes/gifts).



> A/N: Happy Holidays, Holly! I took your McKirk, bondage, and D/S prompts.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Jim always knows when his doctor’s on the bridge. He’s in tune with all the noises around him, the constant beeps of consoles and the hum of the engines below the deck plating and the little chatter from the day crew. He catches every clatter of the turbolift, the doors sliding open, and when footsteps come out, he recognizes them. 

He keeps staring at the viewscreen, though, awash with the usual rush of pure black and stars on route to the nearest starbase, so he doesn’t appear as eager as he is. He’s slumping back, legs spread, and he zeros in on those footsteps getting closer, closer, until they stop right behind his chair: Bones’ favourite place to hover. 

A hand clamps down on his shoulder and squeezes, enough for his breath to hitch. He can’t resist glancing up through his blond bangs, rewarded with a grin. “Alpha shift’s almost over,” Bones announces in his deep, gravelly Southern drawl. There’s nothing conspicuous about it; everyone knows he keeps an eye on Jim’s health. “Make sure you get a good rest after that row with the Klingons, hm?”

Jim nods and waves it off, but he gets the message. Bones retreats like it never happened, that’s it, back into the turbolift and down to sickbay, and Jim fidgets in his chair until the shift’s over and everyone’s getting up. He leaves ahead of the rest, stalking down the corridor with the anticipation like fire in his blood. He has an idea ‘rest’ just meant ‘go straight home and get on the bed like a good boy.’

Jim’s a good boy half the time and a naughty wreck the rest, but his ass is still smarting from his last punishment, so today he’ll play by the rules. His quarters read him coming, the doors opening for their captain, and then he’s stumbling to wrestle off his boots as he crosses the threshold. By the time he’s in his bedroom, he’s down to just his pants and black undershirt, gold tunic and socks in a trail behind him. There’s a note lying in the middle of his sheets and what looks like a dog collar. Jim snorts as he climbs onto the mattress, crawling closer: a typical one of Bones’ games. 

He reads the note first. He doesn’t even have to take in that it’s Bones’ handwriting; no one else in this day and age bothers with paper and pen. The instructions are simple: _strip and put on your collar._ Jim’s already got his shirt halfway over his head by the time he’s done with the note, and then he kicks off his pants, having not bothered with underwear. Bare on the center of the mattress, Jim puts the note aside and reaches for the collar. He keeps his room warm for this purpose; he’s never been very good at keeping his clothes on. The collar is a strange, new material he hasn’t felt before, black and smooth and strangely hot to the touch. The metal clasp in the front is easy enough to handle, and Jim wraps it around his front and clamps it shut. It fits snugly against his throat; Bones always knows the right size. He runs his fingers along the thick brim anyway, glancing shallowly about the room for more; it seems a little plain for Bones, who often leaves self-sealing handcuffs, or spreader bars, or gags, or blindfolds, or just about anything out of the Orion catalog. As he thinks, the dip of his collarbone tingles.

He looks down and squints, at first sure he’s seeing things; a slick, black line is snaking down his chest, right between his abs, gliding over his stomach. It must’ve come from the collar, and Jim, excited at a new game, lifts up on his knees, posture straight for a better look. It’s headed right for his cock, which twitches eagerly at the prospect of being touched. Jim should’ve known Bones had something up his sleeve. The black line practically sticks to the contours of his body but pulls taut at the same time. 

When it reaches the golden curls below his stomach, it splits in two. Both lines remain the same thickness, but they don’t touch his cock. They bypass his sides, bracketing both his base and balls, and cling to his inner thighs. When the two prongs disappear from sight, he can still feel them reach along the cheeks of his ass, pulling them open and holding them apart. With a start, he realizes the back of his collar is producing new lines too. One trickles down his spin while others wrap around his shoulders, glide down his biceps, reaching his forearms while more branches tug his shoulders back. Jim doesn’t make them do all the work; he holds his arms behind himself and lets the binding wrap around him, seal his wrists together. It snakes across his waist, cutting through his stomach, pulling his arms snug against him. Still more ropes wind their way down his legs, tying his ankles to this thighs, and somewhere along the line, Jim loses balances. By now his hands are secured and there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from tottering forward. He’s lucky his head only hits the pillows, just a hairsbreadth from the headboard, the rest of his body flattened into the mattress, his wrists and ankles in the air above him. He can feel the cool air along his exposed hole, and he’s glad that he’s facing the way he is. He might be bound and helpless, but that’s nothing new in his endeavors with Bones, and at least he’ll be giving his doctor a good sight to come home to. 

The trouble is waiting. He could call to the computer to send Bones a message, but that feels like cheating, and instead he lies where he is, hole twitching in anticipation and dick swinging helplessly between his legs. None of the ropes are touching it, and even though he knows it’s always a unique torture to have his cock bound, he can’t help but wish he had some form of friction on it. Just thinking about how he looks for Bones, how wanton and exposed, makes him hard. Imagining the hungry look on his doctor’s face is even better, and he can only guess at what horrible, depraved things are about to happen to him at the hands of his gorgeous lover. He’s rock hard in no time, hips gyrating uselessly in the air as he soaks the pillow with his spit in an attempt to stifle his moans. 

Just when he’s starting to go mad, the doors to his quarters activate. He hears the familiar footsteps come in as they close, and he tries to look over his shoulder but can’t see much of anything. Even when Bones does make it to the bedroom, Jim has to crane his neck around to see his lover’s smirk. 

“Well, well, what mess have you gotten into this time, kid?” Bones asks like he doesn’t know, strolling closer. He splays one hand on Jim’s lower back, and Jim keens, trying to arch into the touch. Bones’ hand is warm, real, a promise of more that Jim desperately wants. Bones takes a seat on the mattress near the end, and he strokes his way down Jim’s spine, looping one finger under the binding to test it. There isn’t much slack, and when it snaps back down, Jim grunts in a pain. But he doesn’t protest, never that. He tries to hold his ass out higher, because that’s where he really wants Bones’ hands, but Bones just looks, leaving Jim torturously free. 

Then he blows a puff of breath over Jim’s hole, and it convulses wildly, Jim whimpering into the pillow. Bones presses one thumb against the brim, rubbing gently, and leans forward to give it a little lick. Jim’s pushing his hips back instantly, or tries, but he doesn’t have the power to go very far. Bones buries his nose in Jim’s spread open crack and gives Jim one more long, languid lick across his puckered entrance.

When Bones pulls back, he chuckles, “Definitely worth the money.” He gives Jim’s rear a little pat that leaves Jim squirming. 

Unable to stop himself, he hisses, “You’re a dirty old man, Bones.” It has the desired effect; Bones laughs and smacks his ass again. 

But then Bones’ weight leaves the mattress, and Jim cranes his neck back again; why is Bones getting up?

“I said _alpha_ shift’s over, kid. Beta just started, and today, I’m on beta.”

Jim just stares, horrified, as Bones takes a slow pace around the bed, hungry eyes roving all over Jim’s body. It takes Jim a second to manage, “But—”

“Don’t worry,” Bones interrupts. “I’m sure Spock will be a capable captain while you’re indisposed. Don’t ever tell him I said that, though.” With a grand smirk, Bones bends down to press a kiss to Jim’s cheek, and Jim doesn’t have enough leverage to turn in time to make it mouth-to-mouth. 

Then Bones heads off, giving Jim’s ass a final smack on the way out. Jim half thinks he’s kidding—he can’t be _that_ cruel—he’ll come check in, won’t he?—Jim can’t be like this for a whole shift, he probably couldn’t even stand another hour—but the doors shut again behind his footsteps, so Jim knows he wasn’t kidding. 

Jim fidgets. His situation is made impossibly worse by the new temptation. There’s a little bit of Bones’ saliva slicked around his hole, and his skin’s still burning in all the places Bones’ touched him. 

It takes him a minute to realize that Bones had argued his relegation to beta shift at the last general meeting, and from now on, Jim is going to have to be a lot more careful about following his doctor’s orders.


End file.
